Survival of the Clever
by LiquidatorSasha
Summary: With the Dominion war not going quite as planned, Weyoun 8 uses an unconventional method to ensure his survival. He creates an infant Vorta, Weyoun 9, and passes the child to a human he's been holding as part of his "collection."
1. Chapter 1

**Survival of the Clever**

**I wanted to play around with an idea that's been running through my head. I plan to write the next part of this from the perspective of the other character.**

**Weyoun and Deep Space Nine are © Paramount. **

…

Weyoun gazed down at the small being lying in the chamber before him. He reached a hand down and touched his index finger to the miniature head staring up at him. The eyes, so large and lavender were exact replicas of his own eyes. At that thought, Weyoun smirked. His insurance policy issued a soft sigh and grasped at his finger with its short fingers.

The Dominion war wasn't exactly going as the Founders had planned…Weyoun frowned, watching his cloned namesake as he played with his finger. The Breen may have been a wonderful addition to the Dominion, but no one could have foreseen that Damar, loyal, quiet, and dutiful Damar of all Cardassians would betray the Dominion in such a manner!

If things did not improve, Weyoun Eight would be the last Weyoun to ever exist, and that was something he was not willing to let slide. Reports on rebuilding the cloning facilities that Damar's rebellious gang had destroyed weren't going as well as he had let the Founder on to believe…The infant, Weyoun Nine, was the only way to guarantee his continued existence.

Infants were small, compact, and easily hidden. No one had really noticed that Weyoun had been spending long hours up there in the medical facilities. With power came certain privileges, but even those had limits. He cast a quick look over his shoulder. The Vorta doctors were hovering over the latest sample that the female Founder had given them. Pulling one of the extra lab coats over the infant Vorta, Weyoun scooped the bundle up.

"Ineth, transport me directly into my quarters," he said, striding for the transport controls. He quickly tapped the override commands that prevented others from beaming unwarranted guests into his room.

…

"I have something for you," Weyoun whispered. As he held the bundle against his chest, he could see the outline of Helen's shoulders—they were bare, which meant she was wearing that blue dress he had nicked from Garak's shop during the Dominion's occupation of Deep Space Nine. The dark shade had distinctly reminded him of Ziyal**'s **drawings, one of which, he still had. It was hanging in the bedroom. Helen had to tell him what such trivial things were for.

_That poor deluded and misguided woman…_He smiled, an uncouth notion, at her; at everything she thought to be reality. _So loyal, so vulnerable, and so ignorant. _

"Weyoun," she said. From the soft and slight inflection in her voice, he knew her to be smiling and that her face was covered in splotches of red. Helen got like that whenever he brought her gifts. As of late he hadn't been able to bring home anything, but when they were on Deep Space Nine, he brought the woman a steady stream of shoe laces, picture frames, various sport balls that humans and Bajorans liked, empty decorative glasses, and the like.

He stepped forward and made his way around the front of the couch, where she sat with her back straight and her red face gazing at him. He lowered Weyoun Nine and placed him into her lap. The woman flinched.

She reached a trembling hand to uncover the flap of lab coat covering the infant's face. Weyoun was keen to notice the slight twitching of her fingers; it was as if she was in physical pain. He stared at her, fascinated by this strange behavior. He never once saw her behave like that. Not even when he first found her stumbling about Cardassian streets.

Three years ago, the Cardassian military was conducting a series of tests that would enhance their weaponry; only, the tests were complete failures and had opened up a trans dimensional wormhole that had acted as a bridge between two worlds and two eras. Fortunately, the thing was only open long enough for a lone straggler to wander through it. The woman was found hours after the fact. They were able to glean the truth about the wormhole through the residue that the temporary distortion had left in its wake.

Weyoun had taken the woman and kept her in his quarters. She was just another thing to collect to him. The Vorta didn't have a knack for the things that other species seemed to hold dear, and to Weyoun, the lack of understanding was a severe weakness in his people. He told her that it was a trans dimensional bridge that had brought her there, but neglected (purposely so as to ensure her loyalty) to mention that she had traveled to the future. In Helen's eyes, she was on an alien planet with an advanced civilization. Since Deep Space Nine was of Cardassian origins, she had assumed that it was just a space station set up at the edge of Cardassian territory to "explore the wonders of outer space!" He never let her out, keeping her complacent through lies and diplomacy, and so she had no way of knowing the truth.

He gazed down at her as she ran a finger down the infant's elongated ear.

"He's…he's adorable and…_not human_." The latter words were spoken as if that was the only thing that mattered to her, as if she had a special hatred burning beneath that beautiful dress of hers. There were times when Weyoun noticed that she seemed to not favor her own planet—as she remembered it—he found it most amusing.

Helen brought the child up and placed Weyoun Nine against her chest. She closed her eyes and began swaying.

"He's beautiful," she murmured.

_Insurance policy…insured. _A smirk pleated his lips. Females were all the same, no matter the species. They had that primal instinct to care for younglings too weak to fend for themselves. Although there were exceptions, Vorta and Founder females who would never do such a thing for instance, Helen was not either of those species. She may have been from the "wretched and wicked part of New York" as she so vehemently put it, and she may have been from 1921, but she was still _human._

"I'm so glad that you like him," Weyoun sat down beside her and continued to watch her. "He is Weyoun Nine."

"Thank you Weyoun…for everything."


	2. Chapter 2

**The Purple Haze**

**This chapter is from Helen's point of view. The chapter after this one will be from Weyoun's point of view again.**

**Weyoun and DS9 are © Paramount **

…

_Spin, spin, spin_—the soreness tearing into her shoulders and lower back grew into a dull memory as Helen focused her attention on her work. Her body always started aching like that after six hours. She had been working seven steady hours, and it was almost time for the midday meal, which would include the usual bread pieces and potato wedges that the silk mill offered its workers.

After the meal, there would be another eight or nine hours worth of work to complete before she and her sweat encrusted companions were released for the night—

A loud rasping escaped her throat as she bolted into a sitting position. She reached a hand to her right and sighed when she felt Weyoun's warmth there. Helen fell back into her pillow, scooting as close to him as she could. A small gargling sound emitted from the other side of Weyoun's body.

_The baby! I must have woken him up! _She sat up again to see the tiny Vorta lying on his back with his hands outstretched before his face. In the faint glow of the nightlights on the far wall, she could see complacency in his fair features.

"Go to sleep," Weyoun muttered.

Helen ignored him and continued watching the infant. The alien baby was so different than a human child. Weyoun Nine hardly ever cried or made much noise. _Everything_ was different for that matter, but the past few years have been the best in her twenty-four year existence.

Was this what it was like when her parents were alive? She found herself pondering over that same possibility many times since Weyoun had carried the baby home. Helen's mother had died in childbirth, and her father died five years after that. She didn't remember much about him, but she knew that her life must have been a good one…that was until the debt collectors came and waltzed her away to work in the silk mill.

"Helen…" Helen closed her eyes and nestled herself against him once again. The warmth radiated from his body in soothing silence. If only Weyoun knew…she thought. If only he knew how much he meant to her…

…

"I assure you, Helen, it will be another late night. Things…aren't going quite as nice as I'd like them to," Weyoun said, lacing his handsome face with a smile as he leaned forward in his seat, across the table. Little Niner, as Helen had dubbed him, lay in her lap as she finished off the remains of her breakfast.

"So no games or stories tonight?" she arched an eyebrow and reached her hand towards him so that she could touch his fingers.

"I'm afraid not."

He had grown increasingly quiet in recent days, she mused. His fork clinked softly against his plate when he set it down. Even when in a hurry, Weyoun was as prim, polite, and proper as possible. Snapping his cloth napkin off of his lap, he smiled and departed.

Helen lifted the infant and cradled him, watching his large eyes as they stared up at her.

"I guess you're hungry," she said, getting up and moving to the replicator. Weyoun had shown her the technological advances of his people and how to use some of them. The replicator was Helen's favorite device. It could create food out of nothingness—of course, she knew the underplaying technology behind it from one of Weyoun's many stories….nonetheless, it still fascinated her.

She sighed as she uttered her order and grabbed the bottle that materialized. He had hardly talked at all in the last few weeks. He used to chat her up all the time, telling her of strange things, wild stories about his diplomatic prowess, and space battles where the Dominion was victorious. And then there were the Founders; always the Founders. Helen found herself smiling at the thought.

_Lady Luck passed me a wonderful hand that day…_Helen pressed the bottle to Weyoun Nine's mouth, watching as his tiny hands attempted to hold the thing up._ If only you knew, the things and dreadful truths I have seen…_But he wouldn't. He was Vorta, and they were no where near Earth. He would never have the misfortune of living through animalistic behavior. A shudder ran through her as she fought hard to quell the memories she had bore witness to when she was a child.

Things that people did not shudder at…things that were almost considered normal...

"Okay," she whispered. "Enough of this; there's no point in dwelling on it. Niner, I am sorry I don't know any songs or lullabies. I'd love to sing you something sometime."

…

_Helen…Helen_—Something jabbed into her side, causing her to roll over and open her eyes. Weyoun was standing at the end of the bed with Little Niner in his hands.

"I've already packed your things. Get dressed."

"What? Where are we going? What's going on?" Helen slid out of bed and reached for the dress that Weyoun had placed at the far edge of it.

"Aheh," he snorted. "Well, ah, my dear, I only wish for your safety." Helen clutched the dress against her chest. Weyoun had made his tone particularly…_fake _that time. He was notorious for saying big words and things, but it never amounted to anything foul…there was something with the way he was glaring at the wall and with the impatient manner with which he was rocking Niner in his arms….

"Where are we going?" Helen hissed. "I am not going back to Earth! You can't-"

"Oh stop. You are not going to Earth. I've already given you my word on that when I first took you. Now get dressed. You and Weyoun Nine are taking a trip. I will come after you as soon as the war is over."

"War!?" Helen slipped into the dress, and in two strides, she was standing before the Vorta.

"Just please do as I ask, my dear. You will be back at my side before you know it. Now…there is a shuttlecraft waiting for you. I have set its controls so that it will fly you to Daga Six, a very, very minor world on the other side of the Cardassian Union. You will wait there until I come for you. There is enough food and water stored in the shuttle to last you for three months. Just stay put."

"War!?"

"Helen," He placed Niner into her hands. Weyoun lifted his index finger to her cheek. "You have nothing to worry about. Nothing. The world is uninhabited." He pulled something small from his jacket and placed it between his thumb and forefinger.

"Never mind the other supplies in there…I had to take certain measures to make this look like something else." He squeezed the item between his fingers and clasped his hands together. "See you in three months!"

A purple glaze shimmered over her, engulfing her form. Her body tingled, and she gasped desperately for air—


	3. Chapter 3

**Relics Left Behind **

**The next chapter will also be from Weyoun's point of view. **

**Weyoun, Damar, the Female Changeling and Deep Space Nine are © Paramount. **

…

Weyoun watched Helen shimmer away as the beams of the transporter carried her to the shuttlecraft waiting for her. He clapped his hands, as if to give himself one, loud appreciative slap on the back.

"Well, now that that little item is taken care of, I can be at piece knowing that the Weyouns will survive this nasty little thing that Damar has done to us." He turned and made his way into the sitting room. His eyes roamed the room, at Helen's many belongings; her sketches, scarves, and wooden figurines. Her favorite blue scarf hung over the back of the couch, draped there as if it expected her to wrap herself in it later that morning. He snorted and glanced away. One of the shoe strings he had taken with him from Deep Space Nine caught his eye from the left wall, whereupon it was pinned.

She was nothing more than something to entertain himself with: just another item of curiosity that he had stashed away into his quarters. Even as the thought those things, he found himself hoping that she'd be alright; after all, she was probably the only loyal person to him in existence. There was something to be said of undying and unbiased servitude. She would have made an excellent Vorta in that regard, even if she lacked the necessary subterfuge and cunning that his species was adept at.

Weyoun went to leave, but he paused to look at a painting on the far wall. A shudder ran through him. With her gone, that disgusting trace of that treacherous Weyoun Six would be the first thing to be recycled in the replicator that morning! Weyoun reached his hands up and pulled the thing off of its hook. Helen "simply adored" it…She knew of his clones, and Weyoun Six had particularly elated her.

He scowled at the memories he had because of that defective mess. Memories…feelings…things that no worthy Vorta should ever have to waste his time on! _Abandoning his post and defecting to the Federation! _Weyoun carried the frame to the replicator and stopped to give it one last, daring look—

"Just try it," Helen said, standing behind him and leaning over his shoulder. "Everyone can make some sort of art. You've shown interest in painting from all the times I've caught you staring at Ziyal's paintings. So, try it." She had replicated some paper and paints—Cardassian versions of them, of course—and had sat him down at the table.

_What a sweet and loyal servant._ He smiled as his thoughts strayed. Last night was the most exceptional night he had ever had. She was most willing to experiment with him, and the results of those actions were more than satisfying for him. His predecessor did well in taking her as a trinket rather than letting the Cardassians examine her.

"Alright, but only if we mate again tonight. I highly enjoyed that."

"Um..." Helen fumbled the narrow paintbrush she was holding in her hands, dropping it into his lap. "I-I-um, okay." He looked up and saw that her face was redder than he had ever remembered seeing it.

"Did you not enjoy it?"

"No!" She knelt down next to his chair. "I mean yes! I-oh, what?"

"Never mind. It's clear that you did. So, we will mate tonight, and I will paint you something in return."

"Oh, gods," she whispered, looking away. He reached his arm towards her, touching his palm to the back of her head. Weyoun gave her a slight nudge so that she'd rest her head onto his lap. "This is so…"

"Be quiet," he murmured, gazing down at the paper. He lifted the brush with his left hand and dipped the tip into the purple tin. He pressed it onto the paper, sliding it down the sheet with his wrist. The movement felt methodical and almost relaxing. He continued in this manner until he had drawn a series of lines into the paper. They looked nothing like Ziyal's creative pieces, but he felt a sense of …_something_.

Weyoun lowered his face to the table and stared at the lines.

"Sign it," Helen whispered from his lap.

—Weyoun Eight snorted and was about to slide the damning thing into the replicator, but his communicator chimed before he could get the chance. The painting would have to wait, he mused as he set it down onto the couch. The Vorta hurried for Ops, where the Female Founder was waiting. She had been aggravated with him as of late, which was most understandable considering that everything he attempted had been a failure lately. The victory at Chin'toka felt short lived and no longer felt like any sort of victory at all.

Gods had little patience for continual disappointments.

"What is the progress on the Cardassian rebels?" she barked. He bowed his head in reverence.

"The latest reports show," he waltzed to his station, where a PADD was waiting for him. The reports weren't good… "That Damar continues to evade our efforts to find him."

"How long until the cloning facilities are operational again?" The question wasn't directed at him; rather, she was glaring past him…it was meant as an admonishment, but Weyoun answered it anyway.

"With recent developments and new trouble spots emerging, not for another few weeks, I'm afraid."

"See that you keep yourself _aware_ of this fact, Weyoun."

"I sincerely apologize for the inconvenience, Founder." It wasn't the first time she had "kept him aware" of that not so admirable fact. He looked down at the console in front of him and checked on the shuttle's progress. So far, it was flying according to its pre designated flight path. Dominion forces would not hinder it or question the guise with which Weyoun had shrouded it with. According to their reports and scanners, it was carrying duplicate supplies to a secluded storehouse "just in case" Damar and his rebel forces decided to attack the efforts that were currently in operation to rebuild the cloning facilities that were destroyed on Rondac III.

Weyoun scowled and placed his palm against the flat surface of the console. If Damar so much as nicked that shuttle with Andorian silk, Weyoun would personally see to it that Damar's family, extended family, and friends were killed. _The Weyouns must survive this travesty._


	4. Chapter 4

**Imaginary Arms**

**This chapter is from Weyoun's point of view, and you will see why it is shorter than the others. The next chapter will be from Odo's point of view (and longer!). **

**Weyoun and all characters in Deep Space Nine are © Paramount**

…

_I can't believe I'm lowering myself to this level! By doing this, I am admitting that the Dominion is…having trouble._ Weyoun rolled the cylinder between his palms as he hovered over his console. He glanced up to see that the others in the room were just as tense as he was. The Female Founder's shoulders were slouched, as usual, but there was a certain stiffness to them that he couldn't deny. He frowned at her. He didn't like that she was overworking herself! The disease had ravished her!

Gods deserved better than that.

He looked back down and inserted the data rod into the communications panel. His deft fingers danced over the controls; in just a few minutes, its contents would be on their way to Odo. When the console responded with a high pitched beep, he cleared the rod of everything in its memory.

"Founder, it displeases me to see you working yourself like this," he said, glancing up. Weyoun moved away from his station and rushed toward her. He brushed her arm with his fingers in an effort to steady her from the pain she was inevitably feeling.

"Did I solicit your opinion, Weyoun?" she snapped, not caring to look at him. Her face was focused on the main view screen in the room.

"No," he lowered his head. "Forgive my…presumption."

…

*"Tell me, where's my old friend, Damar?" Weyoun sneered as his eyes blinked over the intruders. He felt as though they were dripping with the very slime that the treacherous Damar had shown himself to be made of. The Dominion would not go down easily, he thought as he gazed into Garak's glassy grey eyes.

*"Damar's dead," Garak said.

*"A pity," Weyoum smiled.

*"He died helping to free Cardassia."

*"What's left of it." The blast came more quickly than a Jem'Hadar soldier phasing out of his camouflage. In that fraction of an instant, Weyoun understood why solids had the tendency to say such things as "I saw my life flash before my eyes!" when faced with death. Never before he had experienced it…The previous seven deaths were inconsequential because there was always another Weyoun to be activated afterwards.

_Not this time._ Weyoun Nine was still an infant, and Weyoun Eight had to simply _hope_ that Odo would be generous enough to piece together the genetic memories he had hidden with the supplies in the shuttlecraft so that the Founder could graft them into the baby's memory when the child grew old enough. That was, if Odo was going to bother himself at all with reading the message.

Flashes erupted throughout his mind, tunneling his vision and making him feel as though he was being hurled forward at Warp 9. Helen's face blurred past while Captain Sisko's voice echoed in tendril-like sound waves. Weyoun Four stared into the disrupter that was his sudden undoing. Weyoun Five clasped his hands together as he walked with Jake Sisko on the promenade…something about writing…

Weyoun Six implored Odo to give him his blessing, but before that, he had created that striped painting which was later recycled in the replicator….was it yesterday?

Helen appeared again, and Weyoun couldn't help but reach his imaginary arms out—as if craving her loyalty—

...

* * *

_* Denotes dialogue taken directly from the series finale, "What You Leave Behind Part II."_


	5. Chapter 5

**Cryptic Message**

**From Odo's perspective. **

**Odo and all Deep Space Nine characters are © Paramount. **

…

Odo crossed his arms as he watched _her_ materialize before him. How long had it been since he said goodbye to her just before joining the Great Link?

"Odo," she said in a soft tone. He blinked and eyed her with the quietness that he had been accustomed to back when he was on Deep Space Nine.

"Nerys…it's been a long time…" He cleared his throat and nodded.

"It hasn't been _that_ long, Odo." She was chuckling in that red uniform of hers. Her left hand was clutching a small cylinder; it looked like a Cardassian data rod.

"I…see…"

"Oh, Odo," she said with a sigh. "It's only been a couple of months! Stop acting like it's been years and you don't know me!" Her lips twitched into a smirk as she spoke those words. To that, Odo allowed himself a smile.

"Well, there is some sort of message for me?"

"Yes…" she lifted the cylinder and stretched her hand out to him. "It's from Weyoun."

"Oh?" He cocked his head, plucking the thing out of her hand with his forefinger and thumb.

"Yeah. It looks like he sent it out shortly before the war was over. With everything as crazy as it was, I suppose it got mixed up and lost."

"Those things sometimes happen," he said, rolling the thing between his fingers.

"Well, now that official business is over with." She started pacing, and her boots clinked against the hard surface of the cave that he had agreed to meet her in. The Alpha Quadrant may have signed a treaty with the Dominion, but that didn't mean the two were on good terms. Yes, he had been living in the Great Link, showing the Founders that solids weren't all that bad, but there would always be that underlying animosity. The only reason Kira was permitted to even go through the wormhole was because the Founders knew how much she meant to him.

"How have you been?" he asked. "I imagine that life on the station is…different."

"Actually," she started laughing, and her boots came to a stop as she spun around to face him. "Things aren't all that much different."

"You aren't letting Quark-"

"Ha!" she snorted. "I may not be a changeling, Odo, but that little Ferengi is in just as tight a spot as you left him in. You do not have to worry about Quark and his never ending supply of schemes. Just last week I caught him trying to smuggle illegal aphrodisiacs into Federation space. You should have seen the look on his face when I marched into his quarters and caught him red handed!"

"Heh," Odo nodded. "I'm glad to see that you aren't letting him run amok."

"Odo," she breathed. "Would you like to talk a walk? Might as well make the most of our time. When I scanned this place, I saw that there were some-"

"I'd love to," he said, stuffing Weyoun's message into his pocket.

…

Weyoun's face appeared on the small teleprompt before him as Odo sat in the shuttle he had borrowed for the endeavor.

"Odo, there is something I need to tell you...There is something that you might have to one day do for me." The Vorta glanced over his shoulder. Was this the "defective" Weyoun? Odo found himself wondering. The voice seemed to match the softer and gentler tones of the one who had…given himself for him. He stroked his chin as he continued to watch the message.

"There is a female that I've been…keeping. I wanted to bring her with me when I defect, but I thought that would be crueler than keeping her locked up. I—or—my predecessors have erm…shall we say…not exactly been honest with her? She doesn't exactly fit into current times…Anyway, that's beside the point."

Weyoun leaned closer, widening his eyes and parting his lips before speaking again. "If the war ends up…going a certain way, would you see to it that no harm comes to her? She's just another innocent victim, and I'd hate to see anything bad happen to her—"

The video was cut off mid-sentence, and Weyoun replaced himself.

"That was my defective predecessor. He was quite emotional, but I saved the message he had recorded just before he abandoned his duties out of foresight." Weyoun issued an exasperated sigh before continuing. "Now, Founder, there is more than just the woman. I find that you will be pleasantly surprised should you…check out the coordinates that I'm about to give to you."

Odo snorted and sighed. Whatever was at the end of those coordinates, it was sure to bring something of annoyance and trouble. He crossed his arms and started tapping his foot. Of course, he'd check it out…his sense of order and righting things would not have it any other way, especially since Weyoun had apparently been keeping someone prisoner, and from the sound of it, he had been holding the female for a couple of years at the very least.

"Computer, set a course for these coordinates—"

…

Odo materialized on the surface of the planet, unphased by the familiar tingle of the transporter beam as it faded away. It was a small world; about the size of a small moon at most. The sky was dark, and in the distance he could see a large moon—Innaris IV—which he knew provided light to at least three of the minor worlds in this sector.

The changeling took a step forward, immediately creasing his lips into a frown. A Cardassian shuttle lay against the base of a rocky cliff. Its hull was blackened in many places, and Odo could see abrasions in the shuttle's metal plating. It looked as though the thing went through a bad meteor belt on its way down to the surface.

With a sigh, he ventured closer. The foliage was blotched and broken about one hundred meters behind the craft, where it must have first hit the ground. He could see a wide, artificial trail leading to the break, which meant that the thing had slid before slamming into the steep rocks. He pulled out a tricorder and began scanning for signs of life.

Perhaps he should have done it from his own shuttle, but since the Cardassian craft registered on his scanner, he didn't think to check twice. As he pointed his tricorder at it, the blank readings only confirmed his suspicions. The woman must have died in such a strong impact, and if the hints Weyoun's message had dropped about her were true, the female had no way of knowing that she could have simply steered the thing away from the rocks so that friction could have slowed it to an eventual stop.

He turned and pointed the tricorder at the trail behind it, hoping that his imagination was making more of Weyoun's cryptic message than what was really there. The thing issued a small beep, and Odo smiled. There she was. He was reading two life forms: one human and—

"A Vorta? This should prove interesting." He tucked the thing back into his belt and began picking his way through the trail. A few minutes later, it opened up into a charred clearing. A makeshift shelter had been constructed against the rocks. Two pieces of bleached wood had been stuck into the ground, and several thermal blankets had been stitched together to create a roof and sides, which she—or the vorta—had draped over the driftwood.

The open face of the shelter was cast in shadows, but he could see that more thermal blankets had been laid out in front and sewn together in the same resourceful manner as the ones encompassing the shelter. An artificial light source glowed from one corner of the blanket on the ground. Something soft bleated, causing him to actually look at the shelter's "front yard" if one could call it that.

An infant was crawling toward a stuffed sock while a human woman in a blue dress lay on her side and watched. There was no sign of distress or pain on her face as she smiled at the child. Odo tilted his head, taking another look at the infant. The ears were elongated and lined with tiny ridges, and the hair was—

Nothing was ever impossible, he mused. He took a step forward, clearing his throat. The sound made the woman look up with a startled flinch.

"Founder!" She stumbled to her feet, taking care to give the infant a wide birth. "Founder," she bowed her head and spread her arms out in the submissive manner of the Vorta. "It is an honor to look upon you."

"I'm not a god," he sighed. "My name is Odo."

"Forgive me, Odo. I am Helen."

"I'm here because Weyoun left me a…message."

"Weyoun?" She lifted her head and tapped her finger to her lower lip. "I've been waiting for news of him for so long. Little Niner misses him. Even though Weyoun was a bit…weird, he was so good to us."

_I highly doubt that,_ Odo wanted to say, but the hopeful and utter look of peace on her features made him keep silent. His eyes flickered to the baby, who was touching the stuffed sock with his right hand. The child's clothing was simple; a light green, long sleeved shirt with mismatching purple trousers: fit for a Vorta.

"That's Little Niner in case you were wondering," she said. "What an honor it is for

him-"

"Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

"Of course, Founder, anything you ask." She lowered her head once again.

Odo sighed. He glanced at the child again and replayed Weyoun's message in his mind. Why the woman and the baby? Could it be that the conniving Vorta actually had some sort of heart? Odo nearly snorted at the amusing thought. No…there was clearly more to it than that.

"Would you like to sit down?" she swept her hand out, over the blanket. "There's only one 'time' here, and that is 'night time.' It's actually noon according to my chronometer. I would be delighted if you'd join me and Niner for lunch." She ducked into the shelter. Moments later she returned with two standard Dominion ration packs and a bottle.

"I guess I don't have to go easy on these anymore since you've come to take me back," she said, sitting down. She placed one of the ration packs into her lap and held the other out to him. Little Niner dropped his sock and started crawling toward her.

"You'll get your bottle in a minute," she yawned, patting his head. He stopped when he reached her leg and rested his head against it. "Vorta babies are nothing like human ones. For that, I am glad!" She started laughing. "So, join me?"

"Changelings don't exactly require food, but I will sit with you if it makes you feel more comfortable."

"It will, Founder."

"Please stop calling me that," he sighed. Odo sat across from her and placed his hands into his lap. "So, how did you end up here anyway?"

"I'd love to share the story with you Fou-I mean Odo."

"It is obvious that you've spent a long time with Weyoun; you've picked up his mannerisms and show a certain, blushing appreciation for them. I didn't think Weyoun had it in him to engage in-"

"He was just my friend, my best friend," she whispered.

"Really? And do 'just' best friends normally have these together?" Odo tipped his head in the direction of "Little Niner."

"No-no! Oh Founder, no. He brought him home one day, and he was the one who named him."

"_Weyoun _just randomly brought him home one day and named him?"

"Yes, Niner's true name is Weyoun Nine."

"Pfft," Odo issued another snort. "Everything is beginning to come clear to me." She responded with a quizzical look. "Before I jump to conclusions, let's start with your story, Helen."

…


	6. Chapter 6

**The Good Life**

**From Helen's perspective**

**Deep Space Nine and its characters are © Paramount **

…

Helen leaned over and scooped Little Niner into her arms. She shifted him so that he could sit in her lap and rest against her chest.

"He's very adept at holding his own bottle…though I honestly wouldn't know if human babies could to the same at his age; I just know that human babies are the epitome of…nonstop wanting," she said, grabbing the bottle. Little Niner took it from her with gentle hands and proceeded to settle himself against her chest and left arm.

"I wouldn't know either," Odo said, tilting his head to watch.

"Well, Fou-Odo, you want my story, so I'll give it to you." She took a deep breath before speaking again. "I met Weyoun about three years ago. As you can obviously see, I'm not a Vorta or a Founder…and I'm definitely not a Jem'Hadar or Cardassian!" She chuckled. "No…I am called 'human,' as you probably guessed when I made that comment about babies moments ago." She shut her eyes and stroked Niner's hair with her right hand.

"My planet isn't exactly full of order, and I wouldn't wish my people on anyone. On my world, unless you are born into money, you are forced to work in horrifying conditions—I didn't even realize how terrible my life was until Weyoun…To me it was just the way things were. Sure, there had been a few people who were able to weave their way out of poverty, but those were mostly men and few and far between.

"I wasn't exactly born into poverty, but when my father died, I was taken away because he had racked up a tremendous debt with one of the local gangs. Things could have been worse for me, so I kept my mouth shut when they handed me off to work in the silk mill to pay the debt off."

"How old were you?"

"Five. Anyway, so I spent the next fifteen years there, toiling and working away while ignoring the atrocities that the gang brought into the place; it doubled as their 'hideout.' Still, I was one of the lucky few who wasn't…erm…well…a lot of females weren't exactly-"

"I get your point," Odo said with a nod. "They didn't touch you."

"Yeah. My life was relatively simple minus the perpetual exhaustion and the aches and pains that came from working in a factory. There were some nights where I'd forgo an extra hour of sleep and just walk down the street, weaving through various alleys. I always stayed within the gang's territory, where I knew they wouldn't hurt me. They were a rough and disgusting bunch, but they didn't let strangers pass into their turf unnoticed. I was seen as property, and you don't exactly want to mug or ruin your own property…

"Anyway, so one evening I was taking my walk, and it was particularly dark that night. What came next was like something from fiction or an Old Wives' Tale…The alley seemed to narrow in on me like I was going to pass out or something, and I could have sworn that I sensed, _felt_ a figure in front of me. I was too afraid to scream or cry out and was too transfixed by the strangeness of it to run. One minute I was just standing there, and the next, something loud ripped through my ears, shaking my entire body. I'm not sure what happened after that, but I awoke sometime that next morning.

"Only…I wasn't on Earth—my world—the buildings were more massive than the ones of New York city. They were curved at odd angles and Cyclopean in design. I think I realized immediately that I was not home. It was just something I _knew_; a primal instinct. The sky was just wrong, the very ground I was stumbling on wasn't quite right, and then I saw one of them, a Cardassian.

"I was taken in, and Weyoun interrogated me shortly thereafter. He took me into his home and kept me there. He was so sweet and so caring...The nice things he said to me…" Helen shut her eyes. "As the saying goes, we became fast friends. I guess he wanted a housekeeper or just wanted someone to be there when he got home from work, whatever the case, I could never figure it out, but I honestly didn't care.

"For the first time in my life, I knew what happiness was. He brought me trinkets and gifts," she blushed. "Shoe strings, alien toys and," she laughed. "Oh Weyoun…I can't wait to see him again. There really isn't much more to say after that. I lived with him for the next three years, even when he had that temporary assignment on Terok Nor."

"What? I never remembered you." Odo's eyes widened, and he leaned forward.

"You were on Terok Nor at the time?" She looked down and took Niner's empty bottle from his hands. "Well, Weyoun didn't want me to leave our quarters, so I never did. I was just fine where I was. I mean, where else could one go on a station in outer space?"

"He kept you locked away inside of his quarters," Odo issued a snort.

"Oh, I know it sounds cruel. I'm not a fool, Odo, but he did his best to keep me entertained. He brought me some art supplies that he had picked up from Ziyal, and let me have her as a visitor sometimes. So it wasn't like I was stuck there in solitary confinement."

"I see."

"Well, up until Little Niner here, there really isn't much more to say." She described the night when Weyoun had come home with the baby. After she finished speaking, her eyes drifted upwards, following the Founder as he stood up.

"Odo?" He started pacing, creating ripples in the thermal blanket on the ground.

"Give me a moment," he said.

"Of course." She shifted and lifted Niner up so that he could rest his head against her shoulder. A heavy sigh escaped from the Founder, and he uttered her name.

"Did Weyoun ever tell you about your people, humans? Earth?"

...


	7. Chapter 7

**The Sting of Truth**

**Deep Space Nine and its characters are © Paramount**

…

"_Did Weyoun ever tell you about your people, humans? Earth?"_

…

"No. I don't think Dominion has explored far enough to reach my planet." She looked down at the folds in her dress as Little Niner buried his face into her chest. _I really don't like how he worded that…_

"I hate to be the one to tell you this, Helen, but while you were on Terok Nor,Deep Space Nine as your people call it, the Dominion and the Federation were at war. Your people are a part of the Federation, and whatever year you think it is…it is not. Humans may be stubborn and annoying at times, but they are not the animalistic people you claim them to be. I'm afraid that Weyoun was lying, or at least, didn't come out with the truth, and furthermore…" Odo's eyes trailed to the baby.

"I think I know what that child really is. I think Weyoun was more interested in saving himself rather than anything else. You said that he had named him Weyoun Nine…Weyoun sent me a message just before the war ended, and in it he hinted at something like this. Do you mind if I take a look around the shuttle?"

"Forgive me, Founder, but…" she glanced away.

"If you want proof of this, I am more than willing to provide you with it. I understand that this would be a hard thing to process after being locked away as a prisoner for three years."

"He didn't treat me like a prisoner. There were times when-" she frowned and clutched Niner tighter. The baby issued a small grunt. "He never once mistreated me or raised his hand against me. Did I not just get done telling you, Founder, that he brought me gifts, took me into his home, and did his best to keep me happy?"

"If you think he did it out of love, Helen, you are wrong. There must have been something; some logical reason as to why he'd take someone in like that. I am sorry that I have to be the one to tell you about the real Weyoun as everyone else knew him."

"Kn-knew?"

…

Odo sighed, heaving his shoulders back and imitating the dramatic changes in posture solids did whenever they were about to reveal something of importance—something that wasn't so great. The woman was clearly in love with Weyoun, as evident by the fluctuations in her tone and the slight changes in her body movements when she spoke about him. If Weyoun didn't give her a reason to hate him or think ill of him, then why would she?

"He was killed during the last battle, the Battle of Cardassia, as the Federation is calling it. Whether you like to admit to it your not, you were his prisoner and he lied to you."

Helen shuddered, wrapping both arms around the infant Vorta, and let out a sharp gasp.

"I know this isn't easy, and you are going to have to process a lot of information right now, but I think it would be prudent for me to search that shuttle. I believe he stashed something of importance inside."

Helen issued a quick nod. Odo stood up and pulled his tricorder out. "I will be back soon, and I am sorry you have to go through this…emotional turmoil. Much was lost during the war." He dipped his head, pivoted, and strode back onto the trail.

…

Helen gaped after him as she watched him make his way through the trail. _Weyoun did love me…_Why else would he have been the way he was? Odo's words seared her mind, making it feel as though her ears were ringing at a high, painful pitch. Why would Weyoun lie? She wondered…

"But he didn't lie…" she rasped. "He just never…he never…" her skin felt hot, and she knew that it would only be a matter of seconds before an onslaught of tears would forever shame her. "He just never told me about…it," she trembled. Little Niner looked up, emitting a soft coo. Her thoughts gathered in what felt like cesspools of tar. She'd never know why he felt he had to hide reality from her.

Weyoun was dead.

_What happened to his clones?_ She winced as wetness spread over her cheeks. Obviously something must have destroyed the Dominion facilities that Weyoun used to boast about…it all made sense. That's what wars did, destroy.

"He loved me, damn it. He loved me!" She began rocking back and forth, holding Niner close to her chest. The little Vorta's warmth was a small comfort in the wake of Odo's claims.

"He loved me, god damn it! He loved me!" Niner whimpered and shuddered.

"I loved him," Helen whispered. "Damn it, I loved him…" she repeated the words, lowering her voice until only her lips moved. Niner stopped quivering, and she kissed the top of his head.

"I loved him…"

…


	8. Chapter 8

**The Restlessness…**

**Deep Space Nine and its characters are © paramount. **

…

Weyoun leaned over her as she lay on his bed. His lips curved into a naughty—

"Founders," she rasped, sitting up. After she had screamed, she had taken Little Niner into the makeshift shelter in order to comfort him. Her cries had tormented the infant to the point where he wouldn't stop trembling. "I must have fallen asleep," she moaned, looking to her left. Niner was sleeping in the bundle she had wrapped him in.

She sighed and reached a hesitant hand toward him. Her mind felt restless, as evident by the sensual dream. A walk was the only thing that would be able to work everything out, but she didn't want to leave the baby there. He had a bad habit of crawling after her and mewing whenever she stepped away from the shelter—mewing because he never really wailed. Niner's cries, if one could even call them that, were more akin to a kitten's mew than the thrashing howls of an infant.

Where Helen went, Little Niner had to go to, even when she had to use the hole she dug fifty feet downwind of their shelter. When she was at_ home_—Weyoun's quarters—leaving him in the other room had not been a problem…Her eyes flickered in the dim lighting of the lamps outside. Another sigh forced itself from her mouth, and she moved her hand away from him.

_I just need to think…I need to sort this out! _She lay back against the bed she had made out of spare Vorta uniforms and closed her eyes. Her restlessness would have to wait; she was not about to wake Niner up just because she wanted to stomp around and snap twigs between her palms. _The restlessness_…it was an incessant gnawing almost. She had been fine for the first few days after the crash—it had crawled beneath her skin like the white powder New York's finest gangs sniffed up their noses…Headaches, gnashing, and wanting to simply _move._

"Weyoun," she whispered, forcing her thoughts back to the subject at hand. What did Odo's words matter if she was happy!? _I don't care if he's a Founder; he's wrong about Weyoun! _The back of her throat felt dry and scratchy, as if she had swallowed a handful of sand.

"Odo is wrong."

…

Odo stood and stared at the container he had dragged out of the shuttle. The contents glimmered up at him in the starlight above him. Everything was almost exactly as he had guessed, and now he had to take this box and show it to the human woman. She was just as defiant and stubborn as the rest of them. Humans were skeptical by nature and required irrefutable evidence before admitting that obvious truths were, in fact, true.

There was more than just the incriminating biological blueprints though—something that he had not expected.

"It makes sense," he said with a gruff. How else would one keep a human in such a confined space for so long? Humans were like Bajorans when it came to such things. Both species had an inherent need for socialization and room to wander. Weyoun had provided her with some socialization, but Odo couldn't imagine that would have been enough…

He squatted next to the open box and reached his hand to the hypospray and vials beside it. Weyoun had drugged her. He had dampened the need in order to prevent attempts to escape altogether.

"Clever, I'll give him that," Odo said, standing up. He lifted the box and started for Helen's shelter.

…

"Helen?" he called when he did not see her outside. Something inside of the shelter rustled.

"Coming," she growled. Odo sighed and set the box down.

"I know you are not happy with me, Helen, but this is for your own good. You need to understand the reality Weyoun had you living in." He gestured to the box as the woman ducked out of the tent. The baby was not with her, he noted.

"I don't believe you. You weren't there, Founder…" His eyes roamed over her clenched fists, down to her teetering feet.

"I know, but I have proof."

"Alright, Founder," she murmured. "I will look inside your box if it pleases you." Helen seated herself on the blanket and waited. Odo did likewise, positioning the box in front of him, and pulled out the hypospray.

"He was using this as a means to keep you content where you were—to keep you in his quarters," he said, setting the thing on the blanket in front of her. "I have his log and instructions if this isn't proof enough."

Helen's fingers grazed the uncouth instrument lying before her. Her hand trembled as she ran her thumb over the thing's handle. _The restlessness…_

"Here are four vials of it," Odo lifted a small case out and set it beside the hypospray. "Apparently I was to give you one of these and take you back to him."

"Then why are there four?" If the woman could shoot venom from her mouth, Odo thought, she surely would have spewed it right at him with that tone. He cleared his throat.

"Just in case. You of all people should know that Weyoun had a tendency to cover all of his 'bases' so to speak."

"Of course," she sneered.

"Now, here is this item." Odo pulled out another metal box which was larger than the first. "Some of this was damaged in the crash." He pulled the lid off and pushed the box toward her. "This was my other task…funny a Vorta would be brave enough give a changeling orders," he snorted. "He was trying to play to my pity—something he knew the other changelings lacked. Well, I was to take this and recreate Weyoun if Weyoun was dead by the time I got his message."

"Then _recreate_ him."

"The baby_ is_ Weyoun," Odo sighed and poked at the metal lid in his lap. "He named him Weyoun Nine because that's exactly what he is. He's Weyoun's clone. How Weyoun had managed to toy with Vorta genetics in order to create a baby, I do not know, but he knew things weren't going the way the Dominion was hoping. He knew that he was in trouble when Damar turned on them." Odo paused and gazed at her, "and he knew that you'd give your life to protect an innocent child, so he put the infant in your care."

"That is the most ridiculous thing—_sick _thing,I've ever heard."

"Little Niner may have all of the genetics that make a Weyoun a Weyoun, but he does not have any of the memories. He is just a baby. I was to take what's inside that box and-"

"And somehow grow Niner up and shove Weyoun's memories onto him…nice." Odo watched as Helen leaned forward to peer in the box.

"Yes. But I'm not going to. I'm going to take the both of you to Federation space. I have a good friend on Deep Space Nine who will see to it that you are properly taken care of."

"I don't_ want_ to go to my people."

"Oh, so you will sit here in the dark and let the child suffer right along with you?"

"That's not fair-"

"You are right. It isn't fair to him."

"So what are you going to do with these-these memories stored in those petri dishes then?"

"I…do not know."

"Founder," she pushed the hypospray away from her. "I'm going for a walk. Little Niner is sleeping in the shelter." With that, Odo watched her snap her head around and turn away.

The changeling fingered the "petri dishes," as the woman had called them. A frown pleated his lips. It was possible to create another Weyoun with the information there, but it was damaged, and there was a strong probability that the Weyoun would be more than just "defective." On top of that, was the fact that he'd have to use the baby in order to fashion a new body. The cloning facilities certainly had the capabilities, and the infant would remain unharmed, but still…Odo's doubts lingered.

Why did he feel this need to reactivate Weyoun? He grunted.

"_Please, Odo... tell me that I haven't failed... that I've served you well."** ***_

His eyes darted to the petri dishes again. Maybe he could recreate Weyoun Six…but Odo was not an expert as far as scientific practices went, and despite his work in the Great Link, the principle truths that had made the Dominion strong still existed and weren't about to go away just because they had lost one war. A defective Vorta would never be allowed to live, let alone be purposefully created in the first place.

Maybe Doctor Bashir could help, he found himself thinking. _Maybe he could make sense of what's stored in here._ It was worth a try. Perhaps there was a lot more to what was stored on the dishes than what it appeared to be. Odo placed them back inside their metal container.

…

So that was it; the answer to the restlessness that had been crawling through her blood. Weyoun had been drugging her. The Founder's words and the stark proof right in front of her made sense. It felt as though someone had pulled a thin veil from her eyes, and now she was seeing things just as clear as they were supposed to be. Why hadn't she wondered before hand why she had always been content to stay in his quarters? _The drug…_

Helen passed the shuttle and went further along the jagged rocks. Her face stung, and her nostrils flared with mucus. But…he had to have loved her, right? _Weyoun Six…_She shut her eyes and stopped her half crazed walk to place a hand against one of the rough stones to her right.

He was so different from the other "Weyouns" even though she never saw them as separate people (nether did he for that matter). She had always enjoyed him, but Weyoun Six was more than just a friend to her, and it was because of him that—Helen snorted and tore her hand from the rock.

So she was his prisoner…her mind hissed with a bitter twinge as she continued picking her way forward. Her steps were swift, and her feet seemingly trampled the ground beneath them. _But he treated me like I was his wif-no…pet…he treated me like a well bred, favorite pet—something to entertain himself with._

"Oh," her shoulders slumped at the realization. The sensation stinging her face burned into tears which blurred her vision. Helen continued pressing forward, memories streaming through her mind much like the wetness staining her cheeks. For how long she walked, she didn't know and was too upset to pay attention.

As she stumbled through thick blades of what she assumed was grass, Helen slumped onto a stone slab. She flicked the blue material on her knee. His favorite dress…She hadn't even begun to process the information about the war and her people, and that it was sometime in the future somehow. A shudder ripped through her frame, causing her to spill more tears out.

Why didn't Weyoun tell her the truth!?

"I feel like a fool…a damned fool," she whimpered. The grass rustled as if responding to her sentiments, laughing and mocking her while she sat there. Was he afraid she'd try to escape? Helen wondered. But there was that drug which prevented such notions…but why?

"Damn it, Weyoun!" she shrieked.

…

_* Quoted from DS9 episode, "Treachery, Faith, and the Great River."_


End file.
